A Collection Of Thoughts

God Complex

He stares at blank paper for hours, thinking of what he should write next. Thinking of how he could create a world from mere words, stories from imaginations and people...

Very realistic people with emotions from thought.

He writes down whatever comes out of his head, his heart and his soul. He who lets the black ink flow off of his precious little pen just to give life to a world, a character...

A story...

This is a story. A story of a man who does not want to be known for making stories and writing down poems, but to be know for making masterpieces.

A man...

A man that wants to play god, that wants to control everything. He would sometimes wish he could do it. But as we know, there is no such thing in the mortal world.

So he started writing, and writing, and writing...

Because there he could be god...

There he could do anything...

He could have powers...

He could have create people...

He could have Love...

A man that is hell-bent...

A man that is struggling with himself...

That his own mortal enemy is his work...

Fearing that it's not good enough...

That it's not as beautiful as he wants it to be...

That he will have the same fate as Van Gogh...

That his masterpiece...

Might be his worst...

That the virtuso is not what he is...

That he is just another lonely, sad, deranged and broken man...

Searching a way, an escape from this mortal soil we step and live in...